


When You're Sad, Can I Sing You Blues?

by SOMETHINREAL



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Set in Toronto, like every other fic i have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 03:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16210514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: The way they fall happens in three stages: the initial meeting, the recurring meeting, and making it or breaking it. (Alternatively: Jae growing the balls he thought he had to ask Wonpil out for real).(alternatively: the one where jae thinks he's incapable of love and then wonpil walks in and makes him question his whole life).





	When You're Sad, Can I Sing You Blues?

**Author's Note:**

> i've been meaning to have this published forever but i've been much too lazy to write an ending haha. title from 2002worldcup by hyukoh!

Jae doesn’t really fall in love. He’s never really gotten it as a concept, or, more so that he doesn’t really have the time or energy for it. People have always been too complex for his liking, too touchy-feely, too emotional and difficult and he’d rather not deal with them in terms of romantic attraction as opposed to platonic relationships. He’s had flings, of course, girls, boys, one who was both and another who was neither. He’s dated, sure, and he’s had plenty of sex, but Jae has never _loved_.

He doesn’t get that mushy feeling that people seem to rave about, never had his heart squeeze in his chest at the thought of another person. Despite a lot of people thinking he’s an emotionless freak, he just doesn’t like love, even briefly considering that he may be aromantic, but deciding against that in the end. Either way, Jae is perfectly content with living this way, even though he gets reprimanded for it constantly.

He lives alone, in an apartment his parents had kindly paid off for him, with a cat that is probably planning his murder and a caffeine addiction that’s getting out of hand. And it’s fine, really, he doesn’t need anyone else to make him feel whole, not with his _actual_ aromantic friend (and occasional platonic jerk off buddy, shamefully enough), Brian; Jae doesn’t need love. It’s an expectation, not a need, and Jae knows this well. It doesn’t matter that his cat hates him and that he barely makes enough in the cafe to pay off his student loans (since his parents can only be so helpful), or that his heart is going to stop one of these days from his typical daily caffeine intake, because he’s okay with the way things are. He doesn’t need love. He doesn’t believe in it.

That is, until one Wonpil (no last name given) happens to stumble his way into the coffee shop on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon.

It’s like Jae’s entire world stops. He can’t even _describe_ it. 

The boy (man? He can’t be older than Jae but can’t be younger than twenty), is the definition of soft, with parted brown waves and the widest, most inviting eyes, dressed in a sweater three sizes too big for his already small body. He’d ordered one of the little cakes that Hyerim makes and an extra large London Fog, then sat at the bar by the window and stared at Jae every time he wasn’t looking, blushed every time he was.

It hits Jae the fourth or fifth time that Wonpil came in that if this isn’t what he wants for the rest of his miserable life, he doesn’t know what is. And it’s fucking terrifying. Jae doesn’t do this. His body is acting in ways it never has before and he doesn’t even understand why. Never has Jae’s heart sped up when someone looked at him. Never. The entire thing sends Jae into a spiral of emotions he’s never felt before either.

He doesn’t fall in love. Jae doesn’t crush, but there the man is, perched innocently on a bar stool in his corner spot by the window, sipping at his London Fog, unknowing that Jae is contemplating whether or not to rethink his entire life.

The way they fall happens in three stages: the initial meeting, the recurring meeting, and making it or breaking it. (Alternatively: Jae growing the balls he thought he had to ask Wonpil out for real).

 

Stage one goes as so:

 

The first time they meet isn’t actually the first time they’ve met. Wonpil is sat at his usual bar stool by the window, drinking what he usually drinks and eating what he usually eats (which Jae knows like the back of his hand at this point, seeing as Wonpil is a regular), and Jae is behind the counter, working his shift like he always does. They’re comfortably apart from each other, as far as strangers who have never shared a word except for a coffee order and a good morning.

Jae is cleaning the counter behind the bar when Wonpil comes up to him.

“Hi, um, sorry to bother, but do you have napkins? I kinda spilled my drink down the front of my shirt, but the dispenser is empty.” When Jae looks at him, he notices the big stain straight away. His eyes widen.

“Oh my god, yeah, here.” He reaches under the counter and grabs some napkins, handing them to Wonpil quickly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Wonpil exclaims, dabbing at the front of his sweater. “It wasn’t hot. I just don’t really enjoy being grossly wet and sticky.”

Jae chuckles. “I’ll bet. Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like a new drink, or something? I’m obligated to ask in a situation like this.”

“Nah, my card ran out and I haven’t got any change.”

“It’s on me. I insist. I feel bad about your cute sweater, but I can’t really do anything besides offer you a free drink.”

Wonpil blushes, and Jae feels his heart squeeze in his chest. “Okay,” he says. “If you insist.”

“Large London Fog with skim?” Jae asks, just to watch Wonpil’s cheeks darken more. Wonpil nods, chewing his lip.

“That’d be great,” he says. “Thank you,” he adds, then leans down to read the name tag that Jae had decorated with Harry Potter stickers. “Jae.”

“Not a problem,” Jae responds, glancing down to the cup in Wonpil’s hand, despite knowing his name already. “Wonpil.”

Ten minutes later, Jamie pulls Jae into the back and kicks Sungjin and Hyerim out of the staff room. Jae is a little confused to say the least.

“Dude,” she huffs, shoving him into a chair and sitting across from him. “What the hell was that.”

“What was what?” Jae asks. What has he done wrong now?

“ _Dude_ ,” Jamie deadpans, giving Jae this _look_. It tells him he’s in deep shit, but he’s not sure for what. “Were you flirting?”

“What?”

“With that guy. The cute one. With the tea down the front of his shirt. Were you flirting?” Jamie rolls her eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Jae furrows his eyebrows. He was not flirting with Wonpil, he was just making pleasant conversation and trying to take his mind off of the hot drink spilled down his chest.

“I was not-- _no_ , I wasn’t flirting. What are you talking about? God, can’t a guy just help out a customer in peace?”

“Oh my god, you don’t even know that you’re flirting.” Jae intertwines his fingers in his lap, stares down at them. He’s definitely not in the mood for wherever this conversation is going. “Oh my god,” Jamie exclaims. “You fucking like him! Wait. You _like_ him.”

Jae thinks she’s waiting for reassurance, so, with a great deal of effort, he nods his head. But not because he wants to admit that he’s gone about his entire life wrong thinking that he’s some loveless robot, just because Jamie can be _persistent_ and he’d like to keep his head on his shoulders and each limb in tact for today.

“Jae, what the fuck. _You like him_ ,” she says, exasperated. “Jae, you have _feelings for another human."_

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do! This is so fucking _weird_.” Jae threads his hands in his hair, tugging at the blond strands so tight it nearly hurts because he’s so _frustrated_.

“Who are you and what have you done with “I-don’t-do-romance” Jae Park?”

“He’s dead and gone in the pits of hell because of fucking _Wonpil_.”

“Is that his name?” Jamie asks, and all Jae can do is nod. “I never thought I’d see the day where you actually fall for someone.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jae scolds her. “I didn’t fall,” he says. “I just tripped a little. Maybe.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, “and went ass over teapot. From this point onwards I’m going to be your love guru.”

“What do you know about love?” Jae asks in distaste. Not because he doesn’t believe her, but simply because he doesn’t like the thought of her being the one to guide him through this thing, because knowing her, he’ll do it wrong and she’ll just up and tell Wonpil that Jae is in love with him herself.

“Clearly more than you, because this is the first time you’ve ever gotten a crush on somebody and you’re twenty four years old, still treating it like you’re twelve.”

Jae sighs. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No,” Jamie says. “Now let’s figure this shit out. But quickly. Our break ends in ten.”  
  
  


The second stage goes as so:

 

Jae is in the bookstore a few blocks from his apartment that sells new and used books for good prices, browsing Shelley, Salinger, Murakami, anything worth the read that he can add to the admittedly too-big collection he has in the office of his apartment. (Yes, Jae has an office. At least, that’s what he likes to call it. It’s a spare bedroom that he’s shoved a desk, and Ikea bookshelf,, a fold out couch,  and a bean bag chair into. It’s used for storage, but mainly so that Jae looks like he has his life together).

Everything is going fine, he’s just turning too fast and somehow, miraculously (only because it’s Jae and the world hates him), he knocks an entire row of books off the shelf.

“Fuck!” he curses aloud, physically facepalming because he is nothing if not a fool. He reaches down to grab the books and put them back on the shelf, but then he realizes that they’re in alphabetical order so he’s going to have to organize them that way.

“Sir!” comes a voice that Jae would be able to recognize anywhere. “Let me help you. Are you alright?” When he tips up his head to give Wonpil this look that’s supposed to say _I’m sorry I just ruined this bookshelf and made your life harder_ , but probably looks like _I’m stupid. Please laugh at me._ Wonpil just smiles. “Fancy seeing you here.”

When Jae looks him over fully, he can see that Wonpil is wearing a name tag. He works here? How has Jae not noticed him before? He’s been coming to this store ever since he moved into his apartment four years ago.

“Wonpil? I uh, sorry about the shelf.”

“It’s fine, Jae. How did you even do that?” Wonpil asks, but bends down to help Jae anyways. He’s much faster at putting the books away, but Jae still tries to help anyways. He almost blushes when their hands touch as they reach for the same book, and then mentally fucking scolds himself because _this is not some indie romance movie filled with cliches, Jae._ He clears his throat awkwardly, because he’s stupid and doesn’t know how to handle emotions.

“I hit it with my bag,” he answers quietly, embarrassed.

“And managed to knock every single book off of it? That’s a talent I have yet to learn, Jae. Don’t worry about it though,  I get paid to do this. Kind of. I get paid to help people. I think this fits the criteria.” Wonpil looks around him before leaning against the shelf. Jae shoots him a look. “Checking for my manager,” he explains. “I can’t be resting on my shift, and my break isn’t for another--” he breaks to check his watch. “Forty minutes.” 

“Right,” Jae says, and nods. “Makes sense. I shouldn’t keep you, then.” 

“No, please do. I’m so tired of escorting middle-aged women to the erotica section.” Jae laughs, this kind of ugly snort that he’s so terribly embarrassed by but makes Wonpil smile, so it can’t be that bad.

“Are you new to town? I uh, if you don’t mind me asking, that is. I just, I’m here all the time and I never see you in this store.” Jae scratches the back of his neck, awkwardness coursing through his bones. He just doesn’t understand why talking to Wonpil is so difficult. He’s usually so smooth. He used to be able to pick people up like that, but he feels like all he can muster right now is an awkward jumble of conversation starters that are so lame he might as well just tell Wonpil to his face that he’s been in love with him for a month and Jae’s never been in love with anyone before, so it’s been a wild ride.

“No, it’s alright! I’m uh, relatively new? I moved here about a year ago, but I’m a bit of a homebody, so that’s why you’ve probably only seen me in the cafe. And I usually work five to nine, but I’m covering for a friend, which is why I’m working nine to five today.” Jae nods again, unsure of how to respond.

“Cool,” he says, because he’s a dumb gay that can’t speak intelligently. “That’s cool.”

“What about you?” Wonpil asks.

“Me? I’ve lived here since I was born. Well. That’s a lie. I was born in LA but moved here when I was like, seven months. So I might as well have been born here. I moved here, to this zone specifically four years ago, and have worked at that cafe ever since. I’m too mean to cover for other people, and the manager is my best friend, so she doesn’t make me. This is why you can see me from seven to three every weekday.”

“Good to know,” Wonpil says. “I’ll be sure to pop in more often, then.”

Jae crimsons. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe you should.”

 

The third and final stage goes as so:

 

Jae is having: a shitty day.

Number of spilled coffees: seven and counting.

Number of angry customers: too many.

It’s not even Jae’s fault, it’s just that the new workers don’t know what they’re doing and get in the way a lot, and it’s fine, sure, because they’re just trying to make pocket money for whatever teenagers need nowadays but it’s just terribly annoying that Jae is left to defuse the angry middle aged women who ask for skim instead of whole milk and extra caramel instead of none. And to top the day off, Jae hasn’t seen Wonpil once and his shift ends in ten minutes. That might be the worst part of the day.

Shitty customers and crowded bar aside, Jae’s day might have been better if there was a certain sweater-clad brunette sat in his spot by the window for Jae to ogle at and mess up drinks over.

But Wonpil isn’t there. He’s in at least once a day. Perhaps he covered for his friend at work again? Or perhaps he just didn’t want to take up on Jae’s offer because he’s uninterested and Jae’s too forward. That’s probably it. Where’s Jamie when you need her?

“Stop moping and make that non-fat almond latte that the woman ordered.” Why did Jae think he needed Jamie?

“Shut up and go away, you overgrown twelve year old,” Jae spits, but there’s no bite and he does as she says.

“You’re not that much older than me,” she points out, sliding a hot chocolate to a teenage girl across the counter.

“Five years!” Jae says. “How is it that you managed to become a manager here and I’m five years older than you?”

“I’ve worked here since I was fourteen. I deserve the title. Anyways. Why are you being so mushy? You usually have no emotion.”

Jae furrows his eyebrows and goes about making his next order. “I’m not being mushy,” he says, but he’s lying and he knows it. “If you must know, it’s because I invited that guy here and he didn’t show.”

“Who, Wonpil?” Jamie asks. Jae can hear the hint of a laugh in her tone but he can’t fathom why. He nods. Jamie snorts. “He’s right there. You’re just oblivious in your never ending moping around the cafe.”

When Jae looks over, Jamie’s right-- Wonpil is standing in the ever growing line of college students and middle aged ladies alike. Their eyes meet and Wonpil smiles, waves. Jae waves back, cheeks flushed red. Jamie claps him on the back and says, “Be more observant, you idiot. Go take his order, I’m extending your shift by five minutes because it’s good for you.” Jae opens his mouth to curse her out, but she cuts him off. “Don’t thank me, Jae. Go get your man.” He wasn’t going to, but sure.

There are two people in front of Wonpil and Jae speeds through their orders faster than he’s ever taken peoples orders before, just to get them out of the way. God, he knows he’s eager, but he’s never been _this_ eager.

Wonpil is wearing a beige turtleneck and a pair of glasses that suit him more than Jae would like to admit.

“Hey,” Wonpil says. His voice is smooth, high pitched, like normal. It still makes Jae’s heart go crazy.

“Hey, Pil,” Jae responds, and upon speaking, realizes that he’s never used a nickname before. Wonpil’s ears go red, so that must mean something good. “Your usual?”

“Yeah, sure,” Wonpil says, like he’s not here for tea and here for something else. “Listen--”

“My shift ends in a minute.” Jae cuts in. Wonpil stops. “I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat. Go out. With me. Together. For a late lunch.”

“It’s three-thirty,” Wonpil says, just to be difficult.

“An early dinner, then. Linner. Dunch? Nothing can be as good as the word brunch, sorry, universe.”

Wonpil smiles. “Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah?” Jae repeats, like he’s unsure even though Wonpil has responded.

“I’d like that. But, screw my order. Can we just go?”

Jae smiles, making a mental note to actually thank Jamie for making his shift longer later. “I thought you’d never ask."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/hfkyounghyun)


End file.
